


Transfiguration

by 1ichens



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Consensual Possession, Gen, Justice (Dragon Age) Positive, light gore, the merger scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1ichens/pseuds/1ichens
Summary: Justice becomes him.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Transfiguration

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted briefly in a couple places a while back. Now it is here.

First he is struck dumb by the uproar of this living body—the thunder of the heartbeat, the rushing blood, the pumping lungs, the electrochemical churn of innumerable busy subdividing cells that together compose his friend.

Then he recognizes some of those pulses as thoughts—strange linear thoughts affixed to space and time, bent this way and that by things like irony and desire and animal fear.

Then this other mind becomes his own, and he remembers a life he has never led, in a place where he cannot exist. A darkness inimical to him, a fortress unjust to its foundations. Through Anders’ mortal eyes he can watch his own unbeing, their mortal body hurt and helpless. In the scars and the years down there in the dark, the shame in his stomach and the whisper in his thundering heart— _we deserve this—_ Justice remembers what they did to him, and howls.

The agony is more than this clay vessel can express. It blazes forth like a sunburst--the air is alight with it, the men blind and their armor searing with it, blood spurting from their ears as it builds to an intolerable pitch— _too much—_

_These ones. They…_

They have hurt him...hurt others? What have they done…? Without his spirit’s sight he doesn’t know, and caught in this soft body with the templars all around he doesn’t wonder. The Sword of Mercy gleams before his eyes, and for the first time, Justice is terrified.

-

When he comes to, sprawled in the blood-slick grass, his hair has come loose and the prickle of it sticking to his cheek is unbearable. His every nerve is singing as if newly born, and every inch of him is covered in clothes that itch and catch, slippery sweat, maddening pinpricks of dirt and gore. How do mortals live in this world?

Never mind. The first day out of the isolation cell was worse than this. He gets up to his knees, sees what’s left of the patrol, and retches. A babble of thoughts start up in one voice that sounds like two _—horror—unjust—they would have—execution_ —he has made a mistake. _Monster._

Abomination.

The word forms but he doesn’t hear it. Terror has blasted away the dull fog of the last months, and he feels, as though for the first time, the embers flare and catch in the back of his brain, that clear bright familiar compulsion to _go._ A great ragged breath escapes his throat with a little yip, a Circle robe’s quiet scream. _Run._ His long legs find a steady, weightless rhythm, like running in a dream. The night air stings his unblinking eyes. _Run, mage boy. Run, freak, run and don’t ever stop._


End file.
